


they linger to watch

by ktlsyrtis



Category: Holby City
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 06:25:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13898190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktlsyrtis/pseuds/ktlsyrtis
Summary: Whatever she expected, it wasn’t this.Written for the Berena NSFW ficathon; prompt 'dressed/naked (half dressed)'





	they linger to watch

**Author's Note:**

> _Us in the mirror,_  
>  _even when we turn away,_  
>  _they linger to watch._  
>  -Tyler Knott Gregson

“Serena?”

“Yes, darling?”

“Can you come in? I can’t get this bloody zipper.” 

Clutching the fabric of the dress to her chest as the curtain slides back, Bernie steps aside so Serena can join her in the small cubicle. Her fingers are cool against Bernie’s skin as she works at the zipper.

The tab finally freed, Serena pulls it closed, resting her hand between Bernie’s shoulder blades. Bernie meets her gaze in the mirror, an incredulous eyebrow raised. She can see Serena searching for something to say, some way to spin her response as she looks Bernie over.

“Perhaps not for you,” she says, fingers moving back to the zipper. “Why don’t we try that blue one? I’ve always liked you in that color.”

Bernie shucks the offending dress quickly, tosses it to join the other rejects piled on the bench. Has nothing to do but stare in the mirror.

She realizes with a start how rarely she looks at herself. A glance in the morning, certainly, but nothing like this, every inch of her unflinchingly on display.

Her pale skin looks almost waxy in the harsh fluorescent lights, nipples puckered in the chill of the fitting room, dusky pink atop her small breasts. Age and gravity have been kind to her, but she can still see the flesh that never bounced back after breast feeding, the silver stretch marks across her stomach, splayed from beneath her arms. Despite home-cooked meals and time spent cozied up with Serena, she’s still thin as a rail; all long, slender limbs and knobby knees.

She knows Serena loves her, feels it in every touch, sees it in every smile. But her eyes fall to the ragged scar bisecting her chest, still pink and angry looking compared to the surrounding flesh. 

A soft hand against her spine rouses her, she sees Serena watching her, knows that she can see at least some of what’s in Bernie’s mind. She always can. 

“Sometimes,” Bernie says, voice soft, “I wonder what you see in _this_.” She gestures to her reflection with unexpected honesty. 

Serena’s eyes widen, as if Bernie’s sprouted a second head, then narrow in consideration. She steps closer, the silk of her blouse brushing against Bernie’s skin, sending a shiver down her spine.

“What do I see?” Her voice is low, intimate, just the sound of it raising Bernie’s heart rate. "I see the woman I love, darling."

Her hands gently skim down Bernie’s arms, raising the fine hairs. "I see your arms, always there to hold me, keep me safe."

She tangles their fingers together, raising them to her mouth, gazes still locked in the mirror. "I see your hands, able to save lives," her lips ghost against Bernie's knuckles, "and to give me incredible pleasure."

"I see this body that has borne two children, survived so much." One hand stays pressed against Bernie's abdomen, the other sliding up to rest against her sternum, Bernie's heart thudding against the warmth of Serena's palm.

Serena nuzzles against her neck, works her way up to Bernie's ear. Her eyes are darker now, heavy lidded and sparkling.

"Most of all," she whispers, breath warm and wet, "I see this gorgeous body that I want, again and again, in every way possible, for the rest of my life." Hands cup Bernie's breasts, chafing her stiff nipples, and she has to bite back a gasp.

Desire floods her, thick and heady. It's only the knowledge that they're in a fitting room, separated from prying eyes by only a curtain, that keeps her from turning in Serena's arms, from ravishing her here and now.

"If you think you can be quiet," Serena says, husky voice filled with need, "I'd be happy to show you." Fingers roll her nipple as Serena’s other hand drops to cup her through her knickers, pressing until Bernie’s eyes flutter shut.

Serena is watching her in the mirror when her eyes reopen, her breaths quick against the side of Bernie’s neck. A shudder of arousal passes through her as she nods her assent, groaning as Serena nips at the curve of her neck and shoulder.

“ _Quiet_.” Bernie bites her lip as Serena’s hand slips beneath her knickers. She can feel how wet she is, how easily Serena’s fingers slide through her.

“I love this most of all.” A finger circles her clit and Bernie’s eyes slam shut. “I love how desperately you want me to touch you. Don’t you, darling?”

Bernie barely manages a nod, head lolling back against Serena’s shoulder, tensing as Serena focuses her attentions. Two fingers push into her easily, the heel of Serena’s hand pressed against Bernie’s clit and her hips rut, matching the pace of Serena’s thrusts. She’s close, faster than she could have anticipated.

“Open your eyes, Bernie.” Steel threads Serena’s voice, equally tender and demanding. “I want you to see what I see.” She hesitatingly blinks until her blurry vision focuses on the image in the mirror. 

Whatever she expected, it wasn’t this.

She’s never seen herself like this; muscles tense, skin flush with desire. Her eyes are heavy with want, hips moving as Serena’s hand works incessantly between her thighs.

She’s beautiful, incandescent, taken apart and reborn under Serena’s touch. She forces herself to keep her eyes open as she comes, bites hard on her lip as shockwaves of pleasure shudder through her, until she goes limp in Serena’s embrace.

Bernie tries to calm the racing of her heart, prickles of feeling returning to her limbs. Only then does Serena release her, leaning back against the other wall, licking her fingers clean with a Cheshire cat grin on her face. Bernie blushes, fumbles for her jeans, pulling them on as quickly as she can.

“What about your dress?” Serena’s words are coy, a false innocence to cover her obvious gloating. Bernie tugs her close, kissing her fiercely. They’re both panting when she pulls back, slips her shirt over her head.

“Sod the dress. Let’s go home.”


End file.
